Shades of Red
by Ari Powwel
Summary: [one-shot, rated for 'scary moments' X3] The spectrum is a wonderful thing; it is what allows us to see all colours. But what happens to him when everything turns to only one colour? Blood isn't something you wish to see forever . . .


**I do not own** Kingdom Hearts. The rights to this game belong to Square-enix, formerly known as Squaresoft, and Disney Interactive.  
**This story** is strange. This story is somewhat eerie. If you have any problems with blood, I might suggest that you skip this story.  
**The idea** for this story came last night. I was extremely upset, and the result . . . [gestures down] is this fic. Yes, I know I have problems.  
**Finally**, I'll be gone until Monday night, but if you wish to contact me, I'd love to hear from you =3 [msn: eight[underscore]muses[at]hotmail[dot]com] [aim: Ari Powwel]

**Enjoy.**

Shades of Red

_Red._

_The colour of so many things, is it not? The colour of roses, of carnations, tulips and chrysanthemums, the colour of fresh, ripe tomatoes in the summer._

_However, red doesn't always mean love. It isn't always a good thing._

_What about the red eyes of evil? The red, garnet blood that drips from the red of your blade. Bat's wings red; revealing that which you sought to hide from us. _

_Blood can mean so many things. To some, it is only showing the horror of a person's soul. To others, it is an emotional release. To still others, it is a way of forgetting._

_Blood, to me, is blood._

.

He dropped his pen quickly, squeezing his eyes shut in self-loathing. There was nothing to be said about blood. So why had his pen continued to trail over the page, writing about blood? He quickly flipped through the small, red book, reviewing what he'd written. Everything. Everything found a way back to the blood.

.

_Blue._

_The colour of the oceans. The colour of her eyes. I see them every day as I watch her, watch her smiling and laughing with the other children. I see, and for what always seems to be the first time, I smile. I smile at her joy, vowing to myself that I will never let anything happen to her._

_But then my vision changes, and all I can see is her face, blood dripping slowly from a gash in her forehead. 'You failed,' she always says, and the disappointed look upon her face makes my own heart shatter. 'You failed to retrieve my heart for me.'_

_Her face begins to disappear; I reach out for her, but her eyes are turning to red, turning, turning, turning, first to violet, and then into the deep, blood red eyes; eyes that smirk and cackle and laugh at me. 'You can never be the best,' it laughs, in _his_ voice, one I haven't heard in ages. 'You'll never beat me! I'll steal her heart back; you just watch.'_

_And then I am back, watching her laugh and frolic through the sand once more._

.

Blood. He flipped to yet another page, scanning the entry there.

.

_Green._

_Green, green, grass, spreading all over in all directions. Grass is scratchy, but gentle, and I can't help but feel relaxed while lying in a bed of it, the warm sunshine beating down on my pale face._

flash

_I'm standing in the field once more, and to my terror, bodies are strewn everywhere at my feet. I am holding this bat wing-shaped blade, the webbing a bright, vibrant red. With a cry of horror I drop the blade, backing away, and falling straight into one of the bodies._

_It is suspended between two trees, wrists tied to render it spread-eagled. There is a stab wound through its stomach, and blood is dripping, dripping, dripping, into my hair, mingling with the locks. I can't help it—I scream, I scream while leaping up and running, running as far away from the green green grass as I can._

.

Again, there was only the blood.

.

_Brown._

_The colour of the earth. The colour of hair, of hands, of feet, of noses. The colour of the wood. The colour of the earth._

_Every body must return to the ground eventually, or to the water, as the legend claims. Some people choose to bury the dead. Some choose to go out to their own deaths, swimming for as long as they are able, but for those that are not strong enough, they are sometimes laid to rest in the grounds._

_Of course, I never understood the entire prospect of burying in the first place. Here, _everyone_ swims. _Everyone. _But while on another world—where was it again? 'China,' I think—I helped them to bury their dead. I shuddered as I turned over each shovel of clay, rich red clay. The blood had clearly been taken from the body, then poured into the soil here, poisoning the soil until it became such a shade. It makes me sick to even think of how much blood has been poured there, how many bodies have been drunk clean._

_What causes the loss of so much blood?_

.

His searching throughout the book became quicker, more harried.

.

_Yellow._

_The sun beats down overhead, a clear, blinding yellow today. It sears my eyes, making me close them against it, and all I can see is the red colour of my eyelids before I am leaping up, running to the ocean so that I can be ill. Red is a colour I wish never to see again, but one that I know I will see forever. There is no escape from the blood; it haunts me in my dreams if I do not see it during the day._

_Perhaps these will be no nightmares tonight, as I have been infected already._

.

Pages rustle quicker, quicker.

.

_Purple._

_The colour of space. Interspace. The colour of gummi ships, flying by. An orange gummi ship. Shooting at me. Trying to stop me. Orange._

_Trying to keep me from reaching my destination._

_Orange._

_Trying to keep me from killing others; from pouring their blood across the ground._

_Orange._

_Why didn't he shoot me out of the air?!_

_Orange._

.

There is _no_ entry that doesn't pertain to blood somehow.

* * *

He sits in a bed, in an unknown place. His journal is spread across his lap, pen scratching across the pages quickly. One more time. One last entry. He cannot discontinue the journal without the final entry.

.

_Orange._

_His hair is what affects me, today; the boy came up to talk to me in the sunset. The sun (which for once, was not shining red over the waters, the blood red I am used to and have been watching, in order to keep the nightmares away) shone through his hair, highlighting it red, such a deep, dark red that I was immediately sick. For an instant, I was back in my dream, with the man tied between two trees, dark, clotted blood dripping into my hair, the dark dark dark colour of the clots clinging to _his_ hair as I came back. He gave me that look and asked if I was all right. Of course I'm not all right! I wanted to shout. I can't even stomach the mention of blood any more!_

_But I only heard myself giving him the answer that everything was fine._

_He looks worried as he raises an eyebrow in disbelief. 'Well, the others have been sayin' that they've seen you gettin' sick every evening over there. That's not good for you, you know? You should stop that. If you don't, you might waste away to nothin', ya?'_

_I nod once. 'I know . . . I can't help it.'_

_'What, you mean you _have_ to do it?'_

_I look away. He doesn't understand. He can't understand. He's never gone through what I have. He's never seen so much blood that the mere thought of it is nearly enough to make me retch._

_'You don't _have_ to do anything. Let us help, eh? Or at least . . . let us try. She's really worried about you, you know?'_

_Hah. Worried about me? There was a change._

_I look back out over the sunset._

_Red._

_Blood red._

_My head spins once, and then there is no more._

_White._

_That is what I woke up to. Blinding, blinding white, white with all the colours of the spectrum in it: orange, purple, yellow, brown, green, blue—_

_Red._

_Blood red._

_I can't help it; I am promptly sick into the basin next to me. At once, hands are everywhere, helping me to lift myself up. I feel so weak . . . I _hate_ this feeling. I fall back again; I don't think I felt myself hit the ground._

.

_Grey._

_Darker, this time, but still a shade of white. This time, I can look around for a moment before spotting that accursed shade of red. I look up and ask what's going on, but before I am given an answer, there is only red. _

_Red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red._

Ficre, I hate that colour_, is what I think as I fall back into waiting arms once more. _I wish I could never see it again, _is my final thought._

_Grey is not enough. I need something darker._

.

_Black._

_There is only one thing powerful enough to take away the pain. The darkness. The darkness has no colour, absorbs all colour. Something black is what I need, something to keep any colour at all from reaching my eyes._

_I will not open my eyes again._

* * *

The door creaked open slowly as she crept into the room. The doctors had warned her to be careful, lest she wake him—he has never appeared to sleep fully, his body always twitching uncontrollably—but he is already awake. The strip of black cloth he had requested upon his last waking was wrapped tightly around his eyes, knotted at the back of his head. A small red journal lay open on his lap, and he looked toward her as the door creaked again on its closing. He said nothing, but somehow she _knew_ that he was asking, 'Who's there?'

'Riku?' she called, somewhat anxiously. 'Riku, are you feeling any better?'

'Kairi . . .' he breathed, then smiled. 'Never better, Kairi. Never better.' He beckoned to her, waiting until the scraping of the chair legs subsided, then reached out, waiting for her hand to grasp his.

She bit her lip as he fumbled for the journal, finally managing to press it into her hand with both of his. 'Riku . . . why are you wearing that blindfold? Is there something wrong with your eyes?'

He turned his head away, but she saw the glisten of a tear as it somehow escaped the blind. 'Everything is in shades of red . . .'


End file.
